


Orange Blossoms

by wocket



Series: Togetherness [2]
Category: American (US) Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 05:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18543004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: A fling between Burt Reynolds and Jon Voight during the filming of Deliverance has the potential to become something much deeper. Burt invites Jon back to Florida after the shoot and love blooms.





	Orange Blossoms

There’s not a single woman on the _Deliverance_ set for most of the shoot, and Jon Voight is having more sex than he did during the entirety of the 1960s combined, spending the night in Burt Reynolds’ hotel room more often than his own.

Late one night after filming, Jon and Burt are walking down the hallway after sharing drinks at the hotel bar. Jon slaps Burt on the back, a simple goodnight, but Burt pulls him into his room after unlocking the door.

“Oh?” Jon asks, when Burt can’t resist getting his hands on him right away, winding strong arms around his waist and pulling him close.

“Hey there,” Burt says, and then they’re kissing, Jon’s hands splayed on Burt’s chest. Burt kisses him deeply, then steers him toward the bed. 

The two men fall onto the bed gracelessly, reaching for each other in a tangle of limbs. Jon can feel where Burt is hard against his thigh. He straddles Burt’s hips, pressing his hands against Burt’s chest as he leans down to kiss him.

Burt’s hands skim across Jon’s thighs, pulling him down as Burt cants his hips up. He can feel Jon’s cock through his cotton trousers.

Jon undresses Burt, working at the buttons on Burt’s blue shirt, pulling it from his shoulders to reveal Burt’s tanned skin. Jon fumbles with Burt’s belt buckle, pulling his belt through the loops of his cotton pants. He tugs them down Burt’s legs, tossing them aside. 

Jon is about to start pressing kisses to Burt’s chest when Burt gets his hands tangled in Jon’s shirt and tugs it over his head. Burt’s warm hands grip Jon’s back.

Jon finally persuades Burt to lie back, and Jon kneels, his blond hair falling in his eyes. He shakes it out of the way and leans down, kissing Burt’s collarbone, running a hand down his chest and then even lower. He presses kisses along Burt’s stomach, running a finger across the long scar that makes its way across Burt’s abdomen. Burt was the most resilient man he knew. 

Burt bites his lip, holding a breath when Jon caresses his scar. 

Jon takes Burt in his mouth, focusing on making him feel good. He works his tongue around the head of Burt’s dick, then draws his tongue up the underside of Burt’s cock, teasing him before taking him into his mouth again.

“Mmm,” Burt groans. Burt can’t get enough of the sight of Jon’s full pink lips wrapped around his dick. He thrusts his hips up, making Jon sputter around his cock. Jon takes a breath and leans in again, going back to work. 

Burt fists a hand in Jon’s blond hair, mussing it up. 

Jon slides his tongue over the tip of Burt’s dick, which makes Burt groan and yank on Jon’s hair. He kisses the tip then presses his tongue over it again, a playful tease to get him going. Jon sucks his cock, Burt filling up his mouth until he’s groaning and scrambling for Jon.

When he’s had enough, Burt tugs on Jon’s shoulder. Jon rises up and kisses him. Jon cradles Burt’s cheek in his hand, peppering kisses against his smooth jaw. He takes his time, the tip of his nose brushing against Burt’s skin. 

Burt arches up off the bed, pulling their hips together with a warm hand on Jon’s hip. 

“Ready?” Jon whispers.

Burt smiles one of those smiles as his agreement, and Jon melts. He kisses him again.

Burt starts to crawl onto his hands and knees, but Jon stops him, tugging him back by his wrist. Jon kisses it. “I want to see you,” Jon says, looking into Burt’s eyes. Something dark crosses Burt’s face, something Jon doesn’t recognize, but he lets Jon lower him back down gently and press a kiss to his temple.

Jon quietly sucks a finger into his mouth, pulling it out when it’s spit-slick and dripping. He presses it to Burt’s entrance, nudging one of his knees to the side. He fingers Burt, watching the expression on Burt’s face, adding a second finger and then a third. He works his fingers in and out until Burt is gasping.

Jon pushes in, moving so slowly he forgets to breathe. He pushes all the way in, Burt’s ass cradling his dick perfectly. His cock throbs with the sensation; Burt tells him to “come on” and he blinks. Jon forgets to move, and Burt runs a hand over his shoulder and across his back. He arches his back, and Jon swears. Jon begins to thrust, shallow movements that surround his dick in the sweet, warm heat of Burt’s ass. His movements pick up speed, and Jon buries himself inside Burt, thrusting as deep as he can, breathing in the scent of Burt’s neck. 

Burt’s arms wrap around him, and it feels impossibly close. They stay like that for a long moment, Jon breathing Burt in and feeling him underneath him. 

Finally, Jon moves again, pushing deep inside Burt. Burt grabs his ass and bucks his hips up into Jon’s. He’s wild, encouraging. His hair is askew and dripping with sweat. 

Jon fucks him, pounding into him with a relentless rhythm. “Fuck,” Burt mutters. “You’re so…” He can’t finish his sentence, but Jon captures his lips in a kiss.

Jon groans, pinning Burt against the bed and looking into his eyes as he fucks him. Burt’s eyes have that sparkle, that look that makes Jon feel like one in a million. 

Burt clings to Jon. Pressure builds to a point and Jon comes, thrusting a few times before pulling out and dropping his forehead to Burt’s chest. 

Burt traces his fingers over Jon’s back, mindless patterns. He smiles into Jon’s hair.

Jon moves off of Burt and they lie still for a minute, catching their breaths and looking at the ceiling. 

Burt edges closer and leans his head close to Jon’s for a kiss. It’s slow; Burt takes his time kissing Jon, tasting him, drinking him in. “Jon,” he says fondly, pushing the blond hair away from Jon’s forehead. “You taste—”

“Burt,” Jon laughs, kissing the words away. Burt rolls on top of him, large frame pinning him to the bed. He grabs Jon’s wrist and pins it beside his head, lacing their fingers together. Jon smiles up at him before stealing another kiss.

“Why won’t you let me tell you how wonderful you are?” Burt asks, kissing his neck.

“I don’t need to hear that,” Jon asserts.

“Let me tell you anyway,” Burt insists, pressing lips to Jon’s skin. Jon closes his eyes. Burt drags his nose against Jon’s jawline. “Handsome.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Jon kids, touching Burt’s bicep. 

“Shh,” Burt says, lips brushing against Jon’s neck. “I’m not done.” He squeezes Jon’s hand. “Warm,” he continues. “Funny.” He runs his thumb across Jon’s lower lip. John kisses the pad of his thumb before Burt leans close to kiss his mouth. “Sweet.”

Jon winds his leg around Burt, drawing it up the back of his thighs.

“I could stay like this forever,” he says into Burt’s dark hair. He feels Burt smile against his neck.

“Then let’s do it, baby,” Burt says, kissing Jon’s neck just below his ear. He settles next to him, still draping his limbs over Jon. Jon doesn’t know how he does it but there’s something about Burt that’s safe and an adventure all at once. “I’ll steal you away,” Burt says, voice sultry and deep. “Nothing but you and me and the sea.” He lays a kiss underneath the curve of Jon’s jaw.

Jon lets out a happy sigh at his touch, and his whole body relaxes with Burt beside him. He puts his arm around Burt’s waist to keep him close. “That would be nice.”

Burt holds him tighter. “Yes, it would.”

*

One afternoon they wrap early, and Burt and Jon make their way to a part of the river where Burt knows the bank narrows and shallows.

“Keep walking,” Burt tells Jon as they move downhill through thickets of laurel.

“I don’t know about this,” Jon says, and Burt pushes him forward with a hand on his back.

“Keep walking.”

Finally they come up to the water, a babbling, running thing that gets deceptively deeper downstream. They find some smooth rocks to sit on. Burt crosses his legs underneath himself Indian style and Jon pulls his shoes off, sticking his bare feet in the water.

Burt looks good, sun-kissed and glowing from perspiration at his temples. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting the sun’s rays warm his face.

Jon’s sitting not too far away on his own flat rock, dipping his toes in the cool water. He watches Burt, who splashes him and then reaches for his hand with a smile.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Jon says quietly after a few minutes, looking at their intertwined hands.

“You don’t know that,” Burt says. “You can’t know that.”

“Well, I do.”

Burt unlaces their fingers and takes his hand back. He runs his fingers through the water anxiously before picking up a small rock and tossing it across the creek. Jon doesn’t recognize the far-away look in his eyes.

“Is this your first time with a man?” Burt asks.

“No,” Jon replies quickly.

“Then why are you so afraid of me?”

“Goddamnit, Burt,” Jon curses. He puts his face in his hands, then takes a deep breath. He looks from side to side, making sure they’re alone in the woods. “I’m not scared of you. You’re… you’re everything, don’t you know that? I look at you and I just… There’s things you don’t know about me.” Jon kicks the water. “I’ve never felt this way about somebody.”

Burt looks him in the eye. 

“I’m no homosexual,” Jon says, proceeding thoughtfully. “But you make me feel a damn way, Burt Reynolds.”

A smile at the corner of his lips, Burt puts his hand back out for Jon to take, and he does. 

After a long while, when the sun starts to heat up Jon’s face, Jon lets go of Burt and splashes water on the back of his own neck. He rolls up the bottom of his pants to his knees so he can wade in the river. Burt leans back and watches him hop over the rocks.

“Come back with me.”

“What?” Jon turns, almost losing his footing in the rocks. 

“After the shoot. Come back home with me,” Burt says with a grin. “Just for a little while.”

“Okay. Yeah,” Jon agrees. “Yes.”

*

Jon cheers when he finds the hotel mini-bar restocked after a long day of filming. He grabs all of the whiskey, carrying it back to the bed. 

Burt and Jon twist the caps off the miniature whiskey bottles, clinking the tiny glasses together in a toast. They down them in steady gulps, and pretty soon there are empty bottles lining the nightstand. They drink until Jon is rosy-cheeked and slurring, and Burt gets over-confident and loud, draining bottle after bottle.

Burt slips behind Jon, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Jon leans into him, relaxing in Burt’s embrace. He tilts his head back on Burt’s shoulder to empty another bottle.

Finally Jon flops down on the bed. “Get over here,” Jon says, reaching out for Burt.

Burt smiles and falls into his arms. He kisses Jon’s cheekbone, causing him to blush and look down. Burt noses his temple.

“Get rid of this,” Jon says, tugging at Burt’s shirt. He obeys, slipping it over his head. Jon runs his hands all over Burt’s skin.

Burt slips his hands under Jon’s cotton button-down, pressing his palms flat against the smooth, tanned planes of Jon’s stomach. He unbuttons the shirt, kissing Jon’s chest, reaching a hand up to tweak a nipple before sliding it down across his abs. 

They both shimmy out of their pants. Burt rolls Jon over onto his front, kissing the back of his neck as he thrusts against him.

Jon’s ass is pale and smooth. Burt grips a fistful, then smacks him playfully. “Come on, baby,” he encourages, and then Burt is two fingers deep in Jon’s ass, stretching him and curling his thick fingers so that Jon has to grab at the covers. He fingers him until he’s incoherent, babbling and needy.

Burt manages to hear the word “more” through it all. He pulls Jon to his knees, and before he can let any more meaningless murmurs stream from his mouth Burt is inside him, hands on his hips.

It’s the first time Burt fucks Jon, and it’s everything Jon hoped it would be. Burt wrecks him, fucking him so good that he’s left shaking and unable to hold himself up. He knows exactly how to get to Jon, exactly how to make his body sing underneath him.

Burt fucks Jon through his orgasm, reaching around him to jerk him off, feeling Jon clench around him when he comes. Jon goes slack after he reaches climax, and Burt snaps his hips a few times and grunts, coming inside Jon, gripping his hips tight. He braces his forehead against Jon’s back.

After, Jon clings to him, touching him everywhere. Jon traces his index finger against every curve of Burt’s face, caressing his jaw, his cheekbone, his lower lip. All he can think is that he’s ruined.

*

The two of them had certainly worked their way up to Burt fucking Jon, and it’s a good thing, too, because the last week of the shoot Burt goes the wrong way over a 25-foot waterfall and cracks his tailbone. It means there’s probably not room for any more of that in their future, although Jon vows to find other ways to make Burt feel good.

Jon tries to take care of Burt, at least as much as Burt will let him. Burt insists on doing everything himself, pressing a hand to his lower back every once in a while, and Jon knows he’s pushing through the pain. Burt acts like it’s nothing, but Jon knows how painful it must be.

“I just want you to lie back and relax,” Jon tells him, pointing to the bed. Burt reluctantly obeys him. “Will you let me take care of you?” Jon asks quietly, smoothing his hand across Burt’s shoulder. 

“Fine,” Burt relents, closing his eyes. Jon’s hands are gentle. Jon kneels beside Burt and lifts up his arm, massaging his wrist and working his way up Burt’s forearm. He kneads Burt’s skin with his thumbs and forefingers. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he massages Burt’s biceps and his shoulders, fingers working the skin gently until Burt starts making little sighs. 

Jon smiles. Burt seems content, and Jon likes that he made it so. He keeps going until he can feel Burt’s muscles loosen under his attention. Burt’s eyes are shut but Jon can see a calmness spread across his face, his mouth almost making a soft smile.

Jon finally lies down beside Burt, lifting his arm up and sneaking under it. Burt smiles at Jon, nosing his cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

“I like you a whole hell of a lot. Do you know that?”

“I do,” Burt replies, grinning, touching his free hand to Jon’s bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Jon laughs. Burt kisses the corner of his mouth. “Kiss me.” 

Jon turns his head so Burt can capture his mouth in a kiss. 

Their kisses grow deeper, and Burt’s hand moves to rest at Jon’s hip. His thumb traces random patterns against the jut of his hipbone, and Jon feels dizzy.

*

After the _Deliverance_ shoot is over, Jon keeps his word and follows Burt home to south Florida. Burt and Jon hitch a ride to Atlanta, where Burt rents a car from a Hertz. He insists on driving the whole way, getting off the interstate once they hit Daytona Beach. Burt takes US-1 to give Jon a feel for old Florida, eventually getting on A1A so they can drive down the coast.

By the time they arrive in Jupiter, it’s already dark. 

“You ready?” Burt asks Jon with a grin after they finish unloading the Jeep.

“Ready for what? Burton, we just spent twelve hours in the car. What the hell do I need to be ready for other than a good night of sleep?”

“You’re no fun,” Burt says, catching Jon by the waist and spinning him around. “I told you, baby, nothing but you, me, and the sea.”

“You got me,” Jon says, giving in when Burt tilts Jon’s chin up with his finger. “Lead the way.”

It’s only a short drive to the beach. The moon is a thin sliver in the sky, and it’s easy to see the stars.

Burt takes his shoes off in the car and leaves them on the dashboard. Jon follows suit.

They walk barefoot along the beach. Burt doesn’t wait long before heading for the water, walking in the wet sand where the tide washes the sargassum up onto the beach. Jon can’t help but follow his lead.

Burt looks handsome in the moonlight. The moon’s glow catches his chiseled chin when he turns his head just so, and Jon wonders how he looks so at home every place he goes, the forest, the river, the sea. Jon would fall for him anywhere.

Burt takes his hand when they’re a safe distance away from anyone else on the beach. Jon brings Burt’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles, his heartbeat pounding louder than the crash of the waves against the shore.

Burt’s eyes gleam.

“Fuck it,” Burt mutters, and he grabs Jon and reels him in, kissing him under the moonlight.

Jon doesn’t want to give in; he knows how risky this is. Fooling around in the middle of nowhere, Georgia was a lot different than being on a public beach in the middle of the night. It’s fucking beautiful, though, and Jon finds himself romanced by the reflections of moonlight in Burt’s eyes and the sound of the sea. He shuts his eyes and kisses Burt back, one hand firm on the back of his neck, letting the moment take him over. 

Jon doesn’t pull back from Burt right away, but at the same time, Burt doesn’t let go either. He keeps his hands on Jon’s hips, drawing him in close. The salty wind ruffles their hair.

Burt drops down into the sand, tugging Jon down with him. They sit side by side, facing the water. 

Jon spreads his legs out in front of him and digs his toes in the sand, pointing the motion out to Burt with a gleeful smile and a waggle of his eyebrows. “So… do I got the hang of this or what?”

“That’s all there is to it,” Burt replies. He shakes Jon’s knee and Jon leans against Burt’s shoulder. 

The ocean’s waves beat steadily against the shore, illuminated by the crescent moon. Jon sees why Burt likes it; Jon could get used to this.

Burt can’t stop himself from leaning down and sneaking a kiss onto Jon’s hair. 

The water is calm, peaceful and even. 

“I have to piss,” Jon says eventually, untangling himself from Burt’s side, and he walks back up toward the dunes alone, shaking sand from his legs. 

The sea oats seem to blend with the shadows, and Jon is halfway behind the lifeguard stand when two - no, three - guys descend upon him.

“Fucking queers,” one of the guys spits, grabbing Jon’s hands and pulling them behind his back. The guy kicks the back of his knee, causing him to limp considerably.

One of the other men punches Jon in the gut and he falls backward in the sand, throwing his hands out behind him to break the fall. It’s about that time that Burt comes running up.

Burt slugs the biggest guy first, and Jon hears a loud _crack_ when Burt’s fist connects with his nose. He wrestles the second guy to his knees, leveling a right hook to his stomach. The third guy runs off before Burt can get to him. 

Burt has to knock the second guy back into the sand before they both give up and scatter.

Burt makes his way back to Jon as quickly as he can, holding a hand out for him. Jon grabs his hand and Burt hauls him to his feet. There’s a streak of red blood dripping from Jon’s nose, which Jon tries to wipe away with the sleeve of his shirt. Burt reaches up and wipes it away with his thumb.

“I’ll make it,” Jon says, swatting Burt’s hand away, embarrassed. He wouldn’t consider himself as tough as Burt but it’s not like he was weak by any means.

“Jesus,” Burt swallows. “Never seen anything like that ‘round here.”

“Welcome to Florida,” Jon says, and Burt kicks the sand, angry. Sometimes it felt like there wasn’t a place in this world for men like him and Jon, not even in a place Burt loved so much. 

“Shouldn’t be that way, baby,” Burt says. “It’s a rotten welcome.” He dabs at Jon’s face again.

Jon lets out a heavy sigh, and Burt pulls him into his arms. Jon starts to look around, but Burt seems certain that he’s scared away the thugs. Jon slips a hand beneath Burt’s shirt and presses his palm flat against Burt’s abdomen. The touch is grounding.

“Take me home, Buddy,” Jon says softly, watching the waves crash and roll back out to sea.

*

Jon follows Burt through the seagrape, watching him reach for his hip every fifteen paces or so. He must have aggravated his injury fighting the men on the beach. Jon frowns.

The drive back to Burt’s house is quiet. Jon is torn between being grateful and being mad at Burt for getting involved.

“You have a broken tailbone,” Jon reminds him when Burt shifts, a nearly imperceptible grimace flashing across his face. “God forbid—”

“I can take care of myself,” Burt insists. “I’m not broken.”

“Hell, Burt, you’re the strongest man I ever met. I’m just saying to be careful, is all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Burt—“ Jon starts, concerned.

“I said I’m _fine_ , damn it!” Burt snaps. Jon feels the car pick up speed. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks out the window.

Jon yawns as Burt pulls the car into the driveway a few minutes later. It’s been a long day. He doesn’t wait for Burt, hopping out of the car as soon as Burt puts it in park. Jon makes it all the way to the front door before he realizes he doesn’t have a key.

He’s kicking himself mentally when he hears footsteps.

“Jonny,” Burt says with a sheepish look. He moves closer, cautiously, reaching out with a tentative hand. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I know you’re just looking out for me,” Burt admits. “I’m tired, baby, that’s all.”

Jon takes a moment, but he gets it. The shoot had taken a lot out of everybody and they still really hadn’t had a chance to recover. Hell, that’s why they were here. 

Jon tucks a piece of hair behind Burt’s ear and then Burt closes the distance between them with a slow, apologetic kiss.

Jon clings to Burt when they get inside; it settles the uneasy feeling in his chest and makes him feel a little less sick. He wasn’t prepared to feel so out of place but the incident at the beach hadn’t exactly felt like a warm welcome.

Burt fills up a glass with water and hands it to Jon. Burt kisses his temple, noticing that Jon is still anxious.

 _It’s over_ , Jon thinks, of both their experience on the film and of the shock of their exit from the beach. He follows Burt to the couch where he curls up against his side, suddenly realizing he’s more tired than he thinks. 

Burt throws an arm around Jon’s shoulders, and Jon tucks his head against the older man’s chest. Burt absent-mindedly plays with his hair while they watch the television set. It’s nice. It almost feels domestic after living in a hotel for weeks.

After the credits roll, Burt leans his head against Jon’s. “Time for bed.”

There’s no question over where Jon will sleep; he follows Burt to his bedroom and straight into his surprisingly comfortable bed. Jon sinks into it the minute he crawls under the covers. It feels good to be horizontal after being upright for so long. He’s about to close his eyes when Burt moves over to his side of the bed and nestles around Jon. 

“Thank you for coming down with me,” Burt rumbles against his shoulder before he drifts off to sleep.

Both men sleep until midday. The sun’s early morning rays shine through the blinds, but the two men turn their faces away. Jon tucks his face against Burt’s shoulder to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Jon rises first, stirred by thirst and the birds chirping outside the window. He gets up to explore Burt’s kitchen, making himself at home.

Burt walks into the kitchen a few minutes later in nothing but socks and underwear. He pours them each a glass of orange juice, and the sight of Burt in his skivvies holding a glass of OJ isn’t one Jon will soon forget. Jon tries not to stare but Burt is a fine specimen. This is much more along the lines of the Floridian welcome Jon had expected.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Since when do you ask?” Jon replies, sipping from his glass. He’d intended to just take in whatever Burt had for him down here, to get a sense of his life without the framework of filming.

Burt leans on the countertop. “I just want to spend the day with you. We’ve got plenty of time down here,” Burt says. “Is that so wrong?”

Jon finishes his juice and sets the glass down, moving toward Burt. “I’m certainly not letting you out dressed like that,” he flirts. He reaches for his lover, desperate to get his hands on him.

“I should have made love to you beside a waterfall,” Burt says.

Jon blushes. “Don’t say shit like that, Jesus Christ.”

Jon backs Burt up against the counter. He fingers the St. Christopher medallion around Burt’s neck and then places his palm flat against Burt’s chest, feels his heartbeat pulse loud under his hand. He slips his hand lower, runs his fingers across Burt’s ribs, the bones accentuated by the way he’s leaning against the counter. 

“You ought to know how much I want you,” Burt says, a small smile playing on his lips.

Jon shakes his head. “You’re a beast but I love you,” Jon admits, and the look on Burt’s face turns into a full smile. It’s the first time he’s said those words, the first time either of them have said anything like that, although the men could feel it radiating from each other in waves. 

Burt kisses him, a deep kiss that sends a spark of something reeling up Jon’s spine. Jon can’t believe this is happening here, in Burt’s airy kitchen, Burt practically naked and holding him like they do this every morning under the Florida sun, like this is their everyday life, orange trees and fresh coffee brewing.

“So it worked?” Burt grins.

“Sure did, wild thing,” Jon answers, patting Burt’s hip.

Burt successfully lures Jon back into bed for a lazy afternoon. Jon hasn’t spent the day in bed with anyone in years. They kiss each other like teenagers, grinding against each other slowly before Jon decides to do something about Burt’s throbbing erection.

Jon mouths Burt’s cock over his underwear, feeling it twitch under the fabric. He slides them down Burt’s legs, kissing Burt’s muscled thighs as they come off. He works his way from Burt’s knee back up to his dick, long fingers splayed against Burt’s skin.

Jon loves sucking Burt off, loves the way it feels to have Burt’s hands in his hair and his cock heavy on his tongue, and he knows Burt loves it, too. Most of the time now it’s all they get up to, Burt’s broken coccyx causing him more trouble every day. 

Burt pushes Jon’s head down, watches with a leer as Jon’s plush pink lips slide further around his cock. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Burt murmurs, voice deep and reassuring.

Jon licks a broad stripe up the underside of Burt’s cock, leaving spit shining on the hard skin. He teases the head, flicking his tongue and driving Burt wild. After a swipe of his tongue to the tip, he puts his hand around the base of Burt’s dick and swallows harder.

Jon’s no expert but he’s learned Burt’s body over the past few weeks, learned where he’s sensitive, what makes him shiver and what sort of pleasure makes his voice go up in pitch.

Under Jon’s noble efforts Burt has an orgasm and Jon swallows every last drop, pulling off with a wet sound and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Burt thinks he looks wicked. 

Leaning forward on his elbows, Burt kisses the taste of his own come from Jon’s mouth.

After a filthy kiss, Jon tugs off his own shirt. He pulls Burt to his body, pressing his chest up flat against his back. He kisses the brown freckles on Burt’s shoulder and his fingertips graze the dark hair on Burt’s stomach. “I might nod off…”

“As long as you don’t let go,” Burt hums.

Sure enough, Jon falls asleep, and Burt’s not far behind. 

It’s dark outside when they wake, and Jon can hear his stomach growling.

Jon decides he’ll cook for the both of them, but after a cursory glance into the cupboards and refrigerator he realizes the task will be impossible. They order pizza instead, something Jon hates to do _again_ after living in a hotel for weeks, but at least it’s easy and they don’t actually have to go anywhere.

After the pizza gets delivered, they take the box onto the back porch. It disappears quickly, neither one of them having eaten since yesterday’s road trip.

Burt lights a cigarette, leaning against the railing. He takes a few puffs and Jon takes up a spot beside him, plucking the cigarette from Burt’s lips and taking a drag. One more long puff and he hands it back to Burt.

Jon points out the stars, naming the constellations he can remember. “Aquila, the eagle. Cygnus.” Jon leans over Burt’s shoulder and points to the stars that make up Sagittarius. “See the archer’s bow?” He smiles, remembering the scenes in _Deliverance_ in which they’d wielded one. He and Burt had both used the same recurve bow at different points in the film, but Burt had truly looked majestic with it, strong right arm nocking an arrow on the bow like a professional. 

Jon was nothing special, but Burt he could imagine written in the stars. 

*

Burt and Jon spend a week together in the Florida sun, doing everything Burt loves: fishing, boating, walking on the beach. Jon’s building up a decent tan after only a few days.

One day Burt takes Jon canoeing, which is just about the last thing Jon wants to do after wrapping _Deliverance_ , but the Loxahatchee River is calm. It’s lush and scenic, surrounded by mangroves. 

Burt startles Jon by grabbing his shoulder while they’re staring at a large, seven-foot alligator swimming by. “For every one you see, imagine there’s twenty-five more underneath,” he says, his oar dipping into the water.

Jon shivers. The gator disappears.

“You should see them at night,” Burt tells him. “All of them come up to the surface and their eyes light up all white like Jack-o’-lanterns. It’ll spook you real good,” Burt chuckles. _That_ certainly wasn’t a problem they ran into on the river up in Georgia.

“You’re crazy,” Jon smiles, paddling again, but he’d let Burt show him anything.

*

When Jon wakes the next morning, Burt is lying on his side, propping himself up with his elbow. He’s staring at Jon.

“I want to take you out tonight. Somewhere nice,” Burt says. 

The memory of the incident at the beach is still fresh in Jon’s mind. Burt must be crazy. 

“Are you sure?” Jon asks, not so sure it’s a good idea.

“I’ll take you to dinner on the island,” Burt says. “They’ll just think we’re European.” Burt grins, reaching for the sheet that’s wrapped around Jon’s waist. Jon pushes his hand away. “I promise. Nothing will happen.”

Jon eventually relents after a day of resisting, unable to keep himself from giving Burt what he wants. 

Burt finds a tie for Jon to borrow, looping it around his neck and tying it for him. Looking sharp, they look at their reflections in the mirror, both a sight in a suit, especially after living in the same wet clothes for most of the production. The two men stand side by side in the mirror admiring each other, trying to keep their hands off each other, before Burt calls a car.

The restaurant is nice, anyway, nice enough where they’re not likely to get any shit from anyone. Sure enough, they’re not even the only men dining together, although Jon looks down at himself self-consciously after spying two men in pastel pink shirts eating at a table in the corner. Nobody bothers them, thankfully, and their waitress is nothing but professional. 

It’s a date, a real one, and Burt makes sure Jon knows it. Burt leers at him a little more openly than expected, and Jon feels like he’s on the menu.

After dinner, Burt drives them over to Kelsey City, to the spot he used to park with girls back in high school. The once empty development has been filled with a few homes, but there are still great swaths of undeveloped land.

Finding a remote spot to park the car, Burt takes a long look at Jon.

“The other day at the beach? I, uh… I understand more than you think,” Burt says, looking ahead, a blank look on his face.

Jon nods, not sure where Burt is going with this. He’d rather not dwell on the memory.

“I was seventeen the first time I got my ass whupped for being queer,” Burt reveals. “It was my daddy.” Jon looks surprised. “I was parked right here in his Buick. Had a guy’s dick down my throat when all of a sudden the blue and red lights of a patrol car are shining behind us.”

“He called the police on you?!”

“Daddy _was_ the police.” Burt smirks. “Not the first time the Chief of Police threw me in jail and it wasn’t the last,” Burt grins, like that’s an accomplishment.

“He was the Police _Chief_?”

Burt bit his lip and nodded. Jon shakes his head - unbelievable.

“He threw me in the drunk tank for the night - for _public indecency_ \- and beat my ass raw with his belt the next morning when I came home. Couldn’t sit down for two weeks.”

“Burt…” Jon finally gets him to turn his head. “I’m sorry.” Jon doesn’t recognize the look in his eyes. Shame, maybe. There’s a vulnerability that you’d miss if you blinked. It’s not something Burt lets most people see, and Jon knows that. 

Burt stares back out the window, going to someplace in his head that even Jon can’t follow. 

Jon doesn’t know what to say. 

*

Burt digs out a dime bag of weed later that night, which makes Jon grin devilishly. Jon watches as Burt rolls a fat joint with nimble fingers.

Jon feels the conscious, niggling thoughts in his head start to fade away. 

“How do you feel?” Jon asks after Burt takes two massive hits.

“Like my bones are made of spaghetti,” Burt snickers. They laugh and laugh, passing the joint back and forth until it burns away. 

Burt might feel like spaghetti, but Jon feels like his limbs are on fire, and it’s easy for the two of them to begin fooling around when the weed makes them feel floaty and weightless.

Burt takes his time kissing Jon, holding Jon’s cheek in his hand, tracing a thumb over his sharp cheekbone.

Their sleepy make-out session seems like it’s going nowhere until Burt slides his hand down and gropes Jon’s ass, pulling his hips forward so that Burt can grind up against him.

Jon’s eyes close and his lips part to release a silent gasp. He reaches down to work at Burt’s belt, and his lover does the same to him. Stoned and horny, it takes them a minute to stumble out of their pants. 

Burt gets his hands back on Jon and kisses him like his life depends on it.

Jon starts to go down on Burt, but he’s barely had time to wet his lips before Burt stops him.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asks, worried. Burt just grips Jon’s biceps and flips him over onto his back so that Burt can kneel in front of him, clearly more interested in giving than receiving. Burt kisses his way down Jon’s body. Jon is skinnier than Burt, less athletic and less built but no less fit or attractive. Burt nuzzles the golden hair at Jon’s navel before taking Jon into his mouth.

Burt sucks cock like a champ. Burt doesn’t half-ass anything, and this is no different. It might as well be a sport, the way Burt is going at it, bent over him like a Greek god. It’s euphoric.

Jon’s fingers thread through Burt’s dark hair. “You’re so good,” Jon encourages, knowing Burt will eat up the praise. “So good. Love being watched, don’t you?” Burt hums around Jon’s cock, licking eagerly. 

Jon stuffs his cock in Burt’s mouth, watching Burt’s lips widen around his member. He fucks his mouth, using the older man, unable to control himself. 

Jon reaches for Burt’s lip, rubbing his thumb against it and tucking his thumb into the corner of Burt’s mouth beside his dick. “Be loud as you want,” Jon says, thrusting up into Burt’s warm mouth. Burt keens happily.

Burt gags around his cock, moaning. It’s a filthy sound, one that makes Jon’s dick throb excitedly. Burt blinks his eyes. They’re starting to look glassy and glazed over. His brow is flushed with sweat.

Burt spends half an hour sucking Jon’s cock, drawing it out to a deliriously slow experience. His attentions leave Jon unsteady, shaking and gripping whatever part of Burt he can reach. Jon gets dizzy when he comes, shooting into Burt’s mouth with a groan. Blinking rapidly, Jon touches his own face, feeling like he’s about to black out. His cheeks are hot.

When Jon opens his eyes, Burt is lying beside him, grinning. He looks proud of himself.

Jon moans, unable to form coherent speech.

“That good, huh?” Burt asks, smug, stealing a kiss from Jon.

 _I never want this to end_ , Jon thinks, skin still buzzing.

*

One morning, Burt and Jon explore the big backyard, tramping through the scrub, past dwarf oaks, scrub palmetto, and sand pines. There’s a well-worn path they follow through the sugar sand.

Burt sneaks up behind Jon and hugs him, wrapping one arm around his waist and pointing to two sabal palm trees with his free hand. “How about a hammock? Right there?”

Jon smiles, pleased at how easily Burt seems to make room for him in his life, like he could be something permanent. He turns around in Burt’s arms, looking into his brown eyes, and then, in one instant, he ruins it completely.

“I’m getting married,” Jon blurts.

Burt freezes. Burt’s a good actor, and he might be able to hide how sensitive he is, but he can’t hide the disappointed, hurt look that flashes in his eyes.

“ _What_?”

“I’m engaged,” Jon manages to reply, swallowing around the words.

“How long were you planning on shacking up with me before telling me you had a wife?”

“She’s not my wife… yet.”

Burt shakes his head. Unbelievable.

“Listen to me,” Jon says, taking Burt’s face in his hands. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure everything out.” Jon feels sick at the crestfallen look on Burt’s face. “It happened before I met you.”

Burt doesn’t know what to say. He turns away to hide his face, acutely aware of Jon’s presence. 

“I actually fell in love with you,” Burt says bitterly.

“I do love you,” Jon replies, catching his sleeve. “More than anything, don’t you see—” Burt starts walking back to the house. “I meant it when I said you were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’m not the one with a ring on my finger,” Burt bites back, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Jon feels like a fool. Is _that_ why Burt was upset? It’s not as if something like that would even be legal. Plus, if Jon were completely honest with Burt, this wasn’t the first time he had cheated on his fiancée, anyway. You don't fall out of love with someone just because you fall in love with someone else.

Jon follows Burt. He trips in the soft white sand.

“I didn’t know what was happening at first, Burt. I thought it was just—”

“Just _what_?”

“I didn’t know I was falling in love with you!”

Burt gets that sad, doe-eyed look again, the one Jon hates. It’s the same thing that makes Burt a good actor, his ability to show so much expression with a glance. 

“Please—” Jon reaches for Burt. “Please don’t be angry. I didn’t know how to tell you. Her name is Marcheline and she’s a beautiful girl and she might be okay with it. She might understand.”

Burt looks at Jon like he’s crazy. He grabs Jon before the blond man can touch him, keeping his hand locked between their bodies. Burt’s fingers grip Jon’s wrist hard enough to leave bruises.

“You don’t get it,” Burt says firmly. “ _I don’t share_.”

*

Jon spends the next few days walking on eggshells. He’s pissed that he’s fucked up the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him but understands why Burt is upset. The house becomes a pressure cooker, things exploding now that the movie is finally done.

Burt starts taking more Percodan all the time, and Jon’s not sure if he’s really in physical pain or just… hurting. It doesn’t bother him until Burt starts chasing all of his pills with whiskey. Burt tries to hide it, and he’s decent, Jon will give him credit for that. However, Jon has spent all together too much time looking into Burt’s eyes, so he finds it easy to tell when those chocolate eyes go cross-eyed and cloudy from substances.

“Take it out on me, baby, not on yourself,” Jon begs. Burt scowls. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“Well, I don’t need it,” Burt refutes.

“So what happens next?” Jon asks, swallowing uncomfortably, feeling both lost and like an asshole.

Burt drains the rest of his glass and doesn’t answer.

*

Jon goes grocery shopping just to give Burt some space, brings home eggs and milk and a few other supplies so they can cook instead of ordering out. He makes pancakes in a desperate attempt to make Burt happy, which is the first thing to make Burt smile in three days. 

It’s small, but it’s progress.

*

Sunday marks four weeks of Burt taking it easy in an effort to let his tailbone heal, and the end of Jon and Burt’s week at Burt’s place.

Burt puts on reruns of _Bonanza_ and they lounge in Burt’s bed.

The two men are drawn to each other, regardless of their argument a few days ago. Burt might as well be a pin-up model, and Jon is only a man, after all. Jon can’t help but extend his arm and start fooling with the hair at the nape of Burt’s neck.

Burt is always so sensitive, and sure enough, he lets Jon’s touch seduce him into drowsiness. Burt settles into the pillows, patting the spot beside him. Jon slowly drifts closer. He trails a finger against the shell of Burt’s ear, slipping behind him when Burt doesn’t protest.

Jon spoons Burt, pressed chest to back, gasping when Burt bucks his hips into Jon’s. They haven’t fooled around in days, and haven’t fucked in even longer. Jon puts his hand on Burt’s hip, grinding against him to show Burt his interest. 

Burt lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a groan, and he pushes his hips back again.

Jon noses at the back of Burt’s neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the other man’s scent. He’s missed him these past few days; he didn’t know if Burt would ever want to touch him again, to be with him. 

“Yeah?” Jon murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Burt responds earnestly, sliding Jon’s hand from his hip to his swelling cock. Jon feels his dick over the fabric of his thin underwear, pulling it down.

Jon kisses the back of his neck and pumps his cock a few times, feeling him grow harder under his touch. Burt’s dick is thick, bigger than his, and he can feel it twitch with excitement.

Jon slips two fingers into Burt’s mouth. Burt sucks on them, gets them nice and wet.

Jon fingers Burt open. He’s tight after a few weeks without sex, but he works himself on Jon’s fingers with a sort of desperation, practically begging for it. He’s always been a needy bottom.

Two fingers in Burt’s ass, Jon manages to slip out of his own underwear.

Still spooning Burt on his side, chest pressed to his back, Jon presses into the shorter man. He moves slowly, afraid of hurting Burt, pulling him back onto his dick with a hand on his thigh. His movements are slow and precise.

Burt reaches back and grabs Jon’s thigh, fingers pressing so deep into Jon’s skin that they’ll leave bruises. Their lovemaking lacks the fervor and speed of their previous intimacies, but it’s no less intense or steamy. 

Jon’s breath is shaky on Burt’s neck and his hands tremble on Burt’s hips. His thrusts are measured, and the pressure is so damn intense that Jon is about to cry tears against his back. Burt feels so good around Jon, so impossibly tight and warm. Burt’s ass is perfect.

Jon bites Burt’s neck, causing him to arch his back. Jon’s next thrust drives deep. Burt takes it so well.

“Am I hurting you?” Jon whispers against him.

“Don’t stop,” Burt rumbles. Burt can take it.

Jon fucks him slow, makes love to Burt with dripping precision. They’ve never done it like this before, so deliberate and teasing, moving together like they’re meant to.

“Harder,” Burt requests, covering Jon’s hand with his own.

“Think you could come just from this?” Jon asks, thrusting harder. “You make me so goddamn hard. Want you to come while my cock is inside you.” Burt groans. “Let go,” Jon closes his eyes, panting against Burt’s neck.

Burt loves getting fucked, and Jon loves being the one to do it. Loves the way he can knock words from Burt’s mouth, the way he can get Burt to make those breathy little noises he only ever hears in bed. Burt is so damn responsive, and Jon loves teasing those sounds from Burt’s lips.

“Come for me,” Jon begs, hands tightening on his lover. He reaches forward and jerks Burt a few times, thumb drifting across the smooth head of his dick. A few more well-timed thrusts and Burt is spilling over his fist.

Jon fucks Burt through his orgasm, hitting that spot inside him just right while Burt comes over his hand. Jon isn’t far behind, and he comes soon after, burying his face in Burt’s neck.

Jon sighs as he pulls out. He reaches for the box of tissues on the nightstand, wiping himself off and handing a Kleenex to Burt.

Jon doesn’t hold him afterward, but they lie close in bed, facing one another. Jon runs his fingertips over Burt’s warm skin with soft, feather-light touches, touching Burt as if he’s scared he’s going to run off.

“What’s on your mind?” Jon asks Burt.

Burt takes a long time before answering. “I don’t want to lose you, Jonny,” Burt says quietly, touching a finger to Jon’s cheek. 

Jon looks into his brown eyes and kisses him, pressing his lips to Burt’s gently in his version of a promise.

“I’m sorry I fucked this up,” he admits, to Burt’s surprise. “There are things that have been set in motion since before we met… I don’t know how to slow down or stop them.” Jon feels helpless.

“So you’re going to marry a girl out of a twisted sense of obligation.”

“Don’t put it like that,” Jon says with a wince.

Burt rolls onto his back and sighs. Jon pats Burt’s chest. 

Burt’s left hand snakes up and closes around Jon’s. Jon imagines a wedding band on his ring finger, shining bright and gold against his tanned skin. It’s the sort of thing the world would never allow for them even if Jon had the balls to go through with it.

Jon swallows and looks back at Burt’s eyes. “Come on,” Jon asks. 

“Are you in love with her?” Burt asks sadly, watching his eyes.

“Burt,” Jon cringes. “Yes. I think so,” he admits truthfully.

Jon can practically hear the sound of Burt’s heart breaking. 

“I love _you_. I want you,” Jon tells Burt. “I’m fucking crazy about you.”

Burt is quiet. Jon studies him, studies the masculine set of his jaw, his high cheekbones, the full curves of his lips, his warm brown eyes. He’s the most handsome man Jon has ever met.

“America is gonna fall in love with you, Burt Reynolds.”

“Is that my consolation prize?”

Jon takes his hand back, feeling like he probably deserves whatever Burt throws at him at this point. He mimics Burt’s pose, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. Burt’s normally so joyful; Jon hates to see him moody like this - especially knowing that he’s the cause. He sighs.

Jon rolls over on top of Burt. He grabs Burt’s wrists and pins them to the bed above his head, leaning down for a kiss. Burt is hesitant but doesn’t resist. As much as Jon loved Burt holding him down and wrapping his sinewy arms around him, Jon knew that Burt secretly liked it when Jon played dominant with him, when Jon took charge with the normally pushy Burt and took the decision-making away from him, just let him follow Jon’s lead for a while.

“I love you,” Jon says again. He kisses Burt’s cheekbone, then leans in to drop another kiss on Burt’s mouth. With every gentle touch of his lips to Burt’s skin he tries to convey his apology.

Jon kisses his way down Burt’s chest, taking his time, memorizing the way Burt feels underneath him. He’d gotten to know the man pretty well over the past few weeks, learning his body, learning what he liked. He slides his fingertips over the jut of Burt’s hipbone, pressing soft kisses to the skin.

Moving lower, Jon nuzzles against Burt’s dick. It’s soft, but Jon feels confident in his ability to stir Burt’s interest. He mouths at it, moving his tongue around the head. 

“You think, ah—” Burt gasps. “You think making me come again will make me… what, exactly?”

Jon fondles Burt’s balls and licks a sloppy wet stripe across the underside of his dick. His cock stirs, starting to harden underneath Jon’s fingers. He grins before taking Burt’s hardening cock into his mouth, focusing all his effort on bringing Burt to full mast.

Jon pulls off with a wet smack. “I don’t know,” Jon answers, running his hands up Burt’s warm thighs. “Let’s try it and see what happens,” he grins, taking Burt’s cock back into his mouth.

Burt’s hand flies to Jon’s hair. Jon pulls off his dick again. “Uh-uh,” he warns, grabbing Burt’s wrist and putting it back where it belongs, on the mattress beside his head. “You know what to do.”

Jon knows it’s the right move when he feels Burt’s dick twitch against his abdomen. He returns to Burt’s hard cock, tongue swiping over the head. He swallows him down and Burt keeps his hands where they are, holding them still. Jon lavishes kisses over the fleshy head of Burt’s dick, stroking him a few times, twisting his wrist and smiling when Burt bucks into his hand.

Jon treats Burt like putty in the palm of his hand. His mouth is pretty where it’s wrapped around Burt’s dick, his pink lips parted wide to take Burt’s impressive length. 

Burt moans, a high noise that chokes somewhere in his mouth, and he comes down Jon’s throat. Jon swallows every drop. 

Jon pulls off his cock and leans his chin on Burt’s hip. “You still mad at me?”

Burt shudders and groans, unable to move. 

Jon makes his way back up to Burt’s mouth, kissing him, letting Burt lick the taste of his own come from his lips.

“Just ‘cause I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Burt murmurs, sighing, running a hand through Jon’s blond hair. “That’s my problem.” He winds his arm around Jon’s shoulders, tucking him against his chest.

Burt felt Jon sigh against his chest. He holds him tighter.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Burt played with Jon’s hair, combing his fingers through it. “You’ll figure it out, baby,” he says against Jon’s hair. Jon looks up at him with wistful eyes and Burt kisses his forehead. He speaks again, eventually. “You said you would.” He takes a beat. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Burt holds him until they fall asleep, sated and sex-stupid, arms wrapped around each other. Jon is close to him, but it doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel like the nights they’ve spent together in hotel rooms, learning how to be close to one other. Somehow this feels distant despite the fact that their chests are pressed against each other. 

When Jon wakes in the morning, the bed is empty, Burt is already gone.

*

Jon’s last day in Jupiter is bleak and rainy. They drive down to the inlet, where the water is deep blue, almost black, stormy and angry and churning.

The two men sit side by side on the seawall. Jon’s been careful not to be too familiar with Burt in public, but he can’t help but sit close to him now as time runs out. Their feet dangle above the water.

Burt’s got a story about the inlet - he’s got a story about everything - and Jon listens happily, looking down where their thighs are pressed together. Burt tells him about jumping off the white arched bridge as a kid, and Jon can imagine it.

With no place else to go, they stick around, kicking their legs and watching the occasional speedboat return to the Intracoastal through the inlet.

It eventually starts to rain again, and slowly every car pulls out of the parking lot, leaving Burt and Jon alone with just a fisherman on the other side of the park. 

Burt laughs, feeling the rain on his skin instead of just getting wet.

Before they get completely soaked, Burt stands up and offers his hand to Jon, who takes it, allowing Burt to pull him up. 

The rain starts pounding even harder once they get back inside the car, water falling so hard and fast that it would impede anyone from seeing into the vehicle. Jon wipes the water from his face. Burt watches intently before leaning over and kissing Jon over the gear shift. 

Burt’s tongue curls around Jon’s, and he winds a hand into Jon’s wet hair. 

“You better call me,” Jon swears in between kisses. He wants to make Burt promise, but he doesn’t think that he can take Burt’s teasing if he goes through with asking. “You hear me?”

Burt chuckles. Jon pokes a finger into his chest.

“And I want to see you the minute you get to New York City.” 

Burt nods, agreeing, pressing a kiss to Jon’s temple before leaning in and capturing his lips in an aching, tender kiss. Their last kiss is bittersweet and stinging.

Burt eventually starts the engine, and it was hard not to feel like this experience - the movie, this thing with Burt - was coming to an end, regardless of anything else. 

Burt holds Jon’s hand the whole drive home, his thumb pressing little circles against the back of his hand.

*

Burt drives Jon to Palm Beach International Airport the next morning. Burt looks really fucking good, dressed in tight bellbottoms and a low-cut shirt with a large collar. Jon wonders if he did this on purpose, dressed in clothes he knew made him look damn good just to drive Jon crazy. 

Jon watches as Burt picks up his suitcase and bends over to stow it in the trunk of the car. It takes a moment too long, which Jon knows Burt is _definitely_ doing on purpose. Burt is completely aware of his body language.

Jon expects Burt just to drop him off since they’re running a little late, but he parks the car. Burt tries to pick up his suitcase for him, but Jon waves him away.

It’s quiet as they walk inside together, Burt following him to the gate to see him off. Jon feels his stomach sinking. He’s been dreading this day.

Burt tucks his hands into his back pockets. “Well,” he said. “I guess this is it.”

Jon sighs, looking around. The airport is pretty empty for a Sunday. 

“I’ll see you, Buddy,” Jon says resolutely.

“Take care of yourself.” Burt doesn’t move, just stands there with his hands in his pockets. He seems distant, but Jon doesn’t know how to fix it.

Jon gets a hand on Burt’s neck and tugs him into a tight hug. Burt’s arms feel so good where they slowly wind around his waist, like they always do, and Jon wishes the moment could last infinitely longer than it does. Burt is letting go before Jon even knows it, leaving his arms and his heart feeling empty. It feels like an ending.

Suitcase in his hand, Jon starts to make his way toward the gate, heading for the end of the line where it looks like he’ll be the last one to board. Jon wills himself to not look back, not to turn around.

Then he hears Burt call his name.

“Jon,” he hears again, and he turns, finding Burt standing behind him, his eyes suddenly revealing the affection Jon was used to seeing there.

Jon drops his suitcase and lets Burt wrap him up in his muscular arms in a warmer, deeper hug. Jon’s eyes fall shut and he winds his arms around Burt’s neck. Burt squeezes him tight, and Jon can feel everything that was missing from their last hug, all the things Burt won’t say. Burt, in fact, doesn’t say anything at all - he doesn’t need to, just holds him tightly. Jon relishes in the feel of their chests pressed together for one final time.

They make the final boarding call for his flight to New York, so Burt reluctantly releases Jon, patting his hip. 

Jon doesn’t want to take his hands back from Burt’s neck but he does, turning forward resolutely. 

Burt crosses his arms and just stands there, watching Jon with a melancholy gaze.

The flight attendant takes Jon’s boarding pass with a considerate but knowing smile, looking from Jon back to Burt. She hands the pass back to Jon. “It’s hard sayin’ goodbye, isn’t it?” 

_If only she knew._


End file.
